When the Rooster Crows

A techno-neon colored red-blue guitar

muted under Dylan’s cigarette-lipped visage

eyelids closed to open your mind’s eye

on funky rat bastards posing

more lies so pour yourself another

drink some more

love all you want

it’s all you’ll ever need to know

although you’ve been urged to shake up the pattern

try to write longer lines maybe consider the prose poem you know that verse that pushes through to the end of the line regardless of meter regardless of time just keeps on keeping on with whatever you try to say but your trouble is you want to break the line

you want to carve your view

into their minds

fuck with their ears and eyes

your sense of the beat

you want to sing them dancing in the street

to the Easy Rider soundtrack

bring back John Kay

and the Steppenwolf pleasure of taking a goddamn stand

against tombstones in our eyes

like Bob Dylan the Byrds the Animals the Airplane

so many great songs too many bands to name

you went to an art gallery today

what a sweet way to spend an hour absorbing the crafted heart-thoughts

of other idlers like you

one of whom you’ve conned into covering your book

lucky men live in communities

where talented people do art for the love of doing

how else do you place a thousand dollar painting on the front of a collection of poems

most people wouldn’t shell out twenty bucks for

you don’t know which way the wind blows unless you go outside

open the door open your mouth spit your mind

it’s alright ma you’re only tryin’

to continue the show

only buyin’ into transcendence for the length of this poem

we all know sooner or later

that hard rain’s gonna fall

look out your window

we’re all disappearing in our reflection upon the reason

the seasons keep traveling on

so don’t think twice

just go there and drink it in

straight up no ice

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